


The Day Will Come

by KatsukiSin



Series: Blank Pages, Waiting to Be Filled [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Wings, Castiel Needs a Hug (Supernatural), Castiel Whump (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Being an Asshole, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Constipated Dean Winchester, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Overprotective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Supportive Sam Winchester, angel grace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:41:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27564721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatsukiSin/pseuds/KatsukiSin
Summary: Castiel opens up about the state of his wings, but the Bunker isn't quite ready to hear what he has to say.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: Blank Pages, Waiting to Be Filled [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2005186
Comments: 7
Kudos: 107





	1. Brittle

**Author's Note:**

> "Make no mistake:  
> The day will come when you can't cover up what you've done.  
> Now don't lose your fight, kid,  
> It only takes a little push to pull on through.  
> With so much left to do,  
> You'll be missing out, and we'll be missing you."  
> \- Missing You, by All Time Low
> 
> Please note, this installment takes place sometime after season 10, so if you haven't gotten that far, then spoilers ahead. Other than that, there's no specific reference to the timeline in terms of what Big Bad the boys are fighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've noticed that this installment somehow has waaaay more hits than the first installment. I feel like I should put in some kind of disclaimer-- you might be able to read The Day Will Come without first reading my Poisonwood Bible story, but you probably won't understand some parts.
> 
> If you haven't read Barbara Kingsolver's The Poisonwood Bible, you can still read the first chapter of my Poisonwood story and have it make sense. The most relevant part of the second chapter that you'd miss is that Sam and Cas start a book club together.

“I got one.”

Sam and Castiel both looked at Dean, shifting their gazes away from the piles of books in front of them. 

“For real this time?” Sam asked skeptically. The three of them had been researching for almost two days now, and this wouldn’t be the first time Dean had called a false alarm to satiate his boredom. 

Dean nodded, rubbing at his likely aching eyes. “It’s called the Pledge of Horace.”

Sam immediately stood. He walked over to Dean’s side of the table to read over his brother’s shoulder. Castiel soon followed. 

It had all started with a routine check of the warding around the Bunker. As long as they had been living in the underground hideaway, it had been perfectly safe; never a single breach in the perimeter. Up until a few days ago, Sam and Dean had thought the Bunker invulnerable, and the only thing that had kept the brothers checking the warding was the unshakable training and paranoia that had been drilled into them as hunters. That was before the Winchesters had discovered a sigil with flaking paint and cracked plaster behind it. The last two days had been spent searching the (largely unorganized) library to find out what the sigil was and how to repair it.

“‘The Pledge of Horace’,” Dean read aloud. “‘Designed to keep out untethered entities.’”

“‘Untethered entities?’ What does that mean?” Sam scoffed.

“I dunno. You’re supposed to be the smart one here, Sammy.”

“Boys,” Castiel said exasperatedly. “Let’s focus on repairing the sigil for now.”

“He started it!” Dean exclaimed. 

Sam shot him a bitch face, but his brother quickly continued before Sam could retort.

“The lore says some kind of spell needs to be performed as we redo the ward. We have most of the ingredients here; but there’s this one on the list, I don’t know what it is.”

“Sage, wolfsbane, saliva from a man doomed to Hell-”

“Been there, done that. Saliva is a new one though. Usually these spells go for blood,” Dean interrupted Sam as the younger brother read.

Sam frowned, both at Dean’s comment and an item on the list that he didn’t recognize. “A divine remige?”

“Beats me,” Dean supplied with a shrug. 

Sam was just pulling out his phone to look it up when Castiel spoke. 

“It’s an angel feather. A primary or secondary contour feather, to be specific.”

“Oh. Good thing we have our own spring chicken ripe for the plucking, then,” Dean mused.

“Dean…” Sam groaned as Castiel bristled. 

“What?” Dean looked between them, raising his eyebrows. “I’m not wrong.”

“I’ll have you know, I was created long before both: spring and chickens. I fail to see how the terms could possibly apply to me."

Dean smirked. “And that’s why you’re the best, Cas.”

The angel tilted his head to the side, looking at Dean with narrowed eyes and a scrunched nose. He opened his mouth as if to say something but quickly closed it again, abandoning the attempt with a shake of the head. 

“Great, now that that’s settled… I’ll go get the ingredients, the moose here can practice all the Latin mumbo-jumbo, and you can get to plucking. _I’ll be back._ ” Dean stood, leaving the room with Schwarzenegger’s famous line ringing behind him. 

“I’m not a chicken,” Castiel said into the silence, looking imploringly at Sam. 

Sam tried to keep a straight face, but the conflict between the ridiculous subject and Castiel’s severe demeanor made it difficult. “The thought never once crossed my mind.”

Castiel nodded, seeming relieved with the assurance. The angel lingered a moment before turning wordlessly to the doorway. 

Pulling the book closer to him, Sam glanced over the incantation and directions, but his heart wasn’t quite in it. Instead, Sam felt lost in a memory.

_"And ever since I Fell, my wings, they… you could call me disabled, as well."_

_“What do you mean, disabled?”_

_“I don’t want to talk about that. Another day, please."_

That moment had happened months ago, but the day had never come. There had always been another reason to put the conversation off just a little bit longer. 

Stalling and waiting for the perfect time to bring it up had probably been a mistake, however. It had given Sam time to wonder if initiating the conversation, and consequently unearthing the shame and pain that had been so frighteningly prevalent in Castiel's eyes, was the right thing to do. 

_'His pain will just get worse if he keeps it inside. That's what_ always _happens.'_

Sam knew that, of course. Things tended to get worse before they got better, but they did get better, eventually. Still, these last few months had been the first time in a long time that the world hadn't decided to go kamikaze. Things had been peaceful, if not happy, and Sam was loath to do anything that would prematurely destroy this long-deserved slice of normalcy. 

Sam looked up at the sound of footsteps. It was Dean, complete with an armful of miscellaneous spell ingredients in his arms.

"Where's Cas?" Dean asked, dropping the ingredients onto the already overcrowded table. 

"I don't know. He left the room; hasn't come back yet."

"Who knew it would take so long to pull one little feather?" Dean grinned.

"Yeah..." Sam muttered, frowning down at the Latin incantation. 

"What's going on in that head of yours?" 

"It's just..." Sam faltered. He wasn't sure what, if anything, Cas had told Dean about his wings. If Dean didn't already know, then it wasn't Sam's place to tell him. "What if this Pledge of Horace isn't the only sigil that breaks? What if a ward breaks and we don't realize it? And- and why is breaking now? What changed?"

Dean hummed in thought as he looked Sam up and down. Sam tried not to tense. Technically, he hadn't lied; the thought had been in the back of his mind anyway, it just wasn't the main concern that was troubling him. 

"If another sigil breaks, we'll find it and deal with it," Dean said finally. "This place is old. A few broken parts here and there isn't anything to get worked up about. Even if it is, we'll burn that bridge when we get to it."

"Cross," Sam corrected.

"What?"

"It's 'we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.'"

Dean scoffed. "If I said we're gonna burn the bridge, then we're gonna burn the bridge in true Winchester fashion and we're not gonna worry about the consequences until then."

"That's exactly what I'm worried about." Sam chuckled without much humor.

"If you're still trying to go all grammar nazi on me, then it must not be too bad," Dean said reasonably. Then he picked a vial up off the table before holding it out in offering. "Damned man's spit?"

"Dean, that's gross," Sam scowled, leaning away. "Get that away from me."

"Oh, come on. It's not that bad. We share all the same germs anyway."

Dean unstopped the cork plug, acting like he was going to pour the offending substance on Sam. 

"I am not afraid to smack that vial out of your hands, jerk," Sam warned.

"That's not gonna stop me from spitting on you anyway, bitch."

Just as Sam opened his mouth to retort, he noticed Castiel standing in the doorway. 

"Cas," Dean said after following Sam's gaze.

"Hello, Dean."

The angel came closer, and Sam couldn't help but notice that his hands were empty. 

Dean must have noticed, too: "Did you drop the feather in the hall or something?"

Shaking his head, Castiel silently reached under his trenchcoat. His hand came back out with a feather. It was black. 

And at least four feet long. 

"What the Hell?" Dean took the feather, holding it up like a sword. "These things are usually only a few inches long. What, are you trying to show off or something?"

" _Covert_ feathers are a few inches long. This spell called for a remige, which I provided."

"The quill is broke." Dean frowned as he took a seat beside his brother.

"What?" Sam asked, taking the feather. Dean was right; the hollow shaft of the feather was flattened and splintered. Now that he was paying attention, Sam could also see that long sections of the feather vanes were ripped out. The entire feather was frayed, crumpled, and torn, but Sam had been too distracted by the large size to notice earlier. 

Cas hesitated. "If it isn't good enough..."

"It'll do," Sam said quickly. 

"I hope so," Castiel murmured. 

"If it doesn't work, you can always just pull another feather," Dean said. "Right?"

Castiel looked down without answering. 

"Right?" Dean asked again, firmer this time. 

Castiel remained silent, electing to straighten his sleeves rather than answer.

"Cas."

"If it doesn't work, then retrieving another of my feathers for you would be a pointless venture." Cas raised his eyes to meet Dean's. "That remige is in the best condition that I am capable of procuring. If it doesn't work, we'll have to find another way." 

"All of your feathers look like this?" Dean demanded, his voice hard.

"No," Castiel said. His harsh voice and locked jaw suggested he was angry, but the angel's eyes were blank. Sam cringed at the now-familiar look. "Most of my feathers are worse than that."

"And, what, you didn't think to tell us? What the Hell's going on with you?" 

"Dean!" Sam hissed. "That's enough!"

"I told you that I couldn't fly," Castiel continued like Sam hadn't spoken. "What did you think that meant, exactly?"

"Are you accusing me of something?"

"Guys!" Sam glared between the two of them. "I said that's _enough."_

Castiel at least had the decency to look embarrassed at his outburst. Dean merely scoffed, shifting his harsh gaze from Castiel to his brother. 

"Dean. You don't need to get angry every time something doesn't go your way." Dean opened his mouth to protest Sam's words. "Don't." 

Sam turned to Cas as he continued. "I get that this must be hard to talk about, but you should have said something. Because this?" Sam said, gesturing vaguely around the room. "This is why I hate secrets. They always go to shit. And since we all agree that this is a shitty situation, can we talk about this like civilized human beings?"

"That sounds pleasurable," Cas muttered.

Dean waved his hand in reluctant agreement. 

Sam sat back in his chair. A minute passed, then two, but neither of the idiots made any move to talk. 

_'Fine,'_ Sam thought. _'Then it looks like we're doing this the hard way.'_

"Cas, why are your feathers in such a bad condition? Is it hurting you?"

"It happened when I... lost my Grace."

"What does Metatron stealing your Grace have to do with your wings?" Dean scowled. 

"They're interconnected," Cas said with thinly veiled exasperation. "My wings are essentially a metaphysical manifestation of my Grace."

"A what?"

"How am I to be expected to put the incorporeal into words?" Castiel demanded.

Sam shrugged. "Just do your best. We're not going to be able to understand otherwise."

"But I wasn't _designed_ for humans to be able to understand."

"It doesn't have to be a perfect analogy," Sam reassured.

Cas was quiet for a long moment. "You've seen divine beings interacting with human souls; you perceive a bright light when that occurs, correct?" He paused long enough for the brothers to nod. "Imagine that the bright light was permanent. Imagine it was not only permanent, but a natural extension of your body, capable of interacting with the world around you, like your arms or legs. If the soul were damaged or lost, then that extension of your person would be damaged or lost, respectively. The relationship between Grace and wings wouldn't be dissimilar."

"Hold on," Dean said. "If Grace is like the angel equivalent of a soul, then how come you didn't act like Sam after you got him out of Hell?"

Castiel shook his head, looking overwhelmed. "A human's soul is _everything_ that the human is. Grace is an angel's _divinity._ Grace doesn't encompass personality or morals, but purpose and power. Although, in Heaven, purpose and power are given critical importance."

"So you lost your _divinity,"_ Dean began. "But you got it back. You should be fine."

Castiel's gaze instantly gravitated toward Sam's. Their eyes met, and Sam knew they were both thinking of the same thing. Castiel, stealing other angels' Graces. Coughing. Sick. Dying. 

A cold wave rolled over Sam as he realized: _'If the stolen Grace was wreaking havoc on his physical vessel, what did it do to his angelic form?'_

"I didn't get my Grace back completely. I got back shredded remnants. Most of it was used up during-- in the spell."

"So your wings are... shredded?" Sam asked slowly.

"Yes." Cas said flatly.

"Ok, I'm just not getting what you're putting down."

Castiel regarded Dean with uncertainty. "I'm not 'putting down' anyth-"

"So, you're telling me that you've been friggin crippled and you never bothered to say anything about it? You didn't ever stop to think 'Hey, maybe one day we'll need Grace or something in a life-or-death situation; I should probably tell Sam and Dean so they don't wind up dead because they wrongfully believed that I could do my goddamn job and help them?'"

Sam stared at Dean in shock. He could feel the words hanging heavily in the air. Silence stretched between them, neither Sam nor Castiel knowing how to react to the tension. Sam could feel the words resounding in his skull, and the tension thrumming through him, hot and constant. It struck Sam then that he wasn't just shocked, he was _pissed._ Dean was really putting on his macho tough guy act _now?_ Castiel had been struggling with this for so long, and the second the angel risked opening up about it, Dean was going to push him away because the idiot couldn't handle his own emotions?

"Where the Hell are you going?" Dean grunted.

Sam dragged his gaze away from Dean to see that Cas had turned, silently walking out the way he had come. 

"Cas!" Dean called again. The angel stopped for a second as though he might turn back, but continued out of the room, down the hall, and out of sight without acknowledging either of the Winchesters. 

Dean shook his head with a scowl at the now-empty hall. "I need a drink."

"Don't you dare," Sam commanded scathingly.

Dean, who had just started rising out of his seat, froze at the acrimonious tone in Sam's voice. "What did I do now?"

"I think it's about time that we had a talk, Dean."

  
  



	2. Great Expectations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter, and it might feel too much like filler, but I wanted Dean to have the chance to explain himself.

The library was silent for a few long moments as the two brothers locked eyes. A muscle in Dean's jaw ticked; the hunter's eyes were filled with anger and stubbornness. 

Sam closed his eyes, forcing himself to take a deep, calming breath. A part of him wanted to keep screaming and sneering, anything to get Dean's attention and make him realize how callous he had been, but Sam wouldn't allow the situation to escalate anymore. After all, he wanted to talk with his brother, not argue. 

"What was all that, Dean?" Sam focused his gaze on his brother, struggling to maintain a neutral mien. 

Dean scoffed, shaking his head incredulously. "Cas _lied_ to us. He's _been_ lying to us for ages!"

Sam bit his lip awkwardly. Technically, Sam and the angel had had a brief discussion about Castiel's wings, but Dean didn't know that. "Cas didn't lie about his wings or his Grace. We never asked him about it, and that's on us. Not him." 

"It was a lie of omission," Dean replied firmly. "And the son of a bitch shouldn't have done it."

"I agree. He should have told us how bad it was, so we could _help_ him through it." Sam put an emphasis on that last part in an attempt to show how much he disapproved of the accusation Dean had made against Cas before the angel left. It had been downright cruel when Dean suggested that Cas had been acting maliciously by not admitting how bad his wings were. Cas should have said something because Sam and Dean were his family, and family helped each other; not because Castiel owed it to them.

Still, Sam knew the lying wasn't enough to get Dean this mad. Truth be told, the three of them had so often lied and hidden things from each other that it was almost starting to feel commonplace. "But this isn't about the secrecy, is it?"

Dean's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he remained mute as his gaze flicked away from Sam. 

"I get that you're worried about him," Sam continued gently. "I am, too. But we can't let our concern for each others safety be the thing that tears us apart."

"The Hell are you on about?"

"Cas needed your support, Dean, and you punished him for it." And this wasn't even the first time something like this had happened. It was just the first time Sam had spoken up about it, instead of invariably pushing the instance aside to focus on whatever crisis the trio had found themselves burdened with at the time. 

"You know what?" Dean said in a low voice. "Good. Maybe I'll eventually knock some sense into the idiot."

"He's a Winchester now, so that clearly isn't going to happen anytime soon," Sam said with a bitter smile.

Dean huffed. "Can't stop me from trying."

"Dean..." Sam sighed. "Working with Crowley, the Leviathan, knocking all the angels out of Heaven-- how many messes do we have to get ourselves into before you realize your zero-tolerance-of-mistakes method isn't working?"

Dean said nothing, instead gritting his teeth as he studiously analyzed the antique lamp on the table.

"When you think about it... a lot of the bad decisions Cas has made happened when he didn't feel safe enough to come to us about them." Sam spoke quietly, more to himself than to Dean as he finally managed to verbalize the disquieting feelings which had plagued him these last few months. 

"He shouldn't be making bad decisions in the first place." 

Sam deflated slightly at Dean's words. He had thought he was getting through to Dean. _'Why does he have to be so pigheaded? Why can't he just_ listen? _'_

"Cas is _better_ than that. I don't..." Dean trailed off with a low sound, almost a growl. He ran his hands down his face before slamming them against the table so hard that Sam felt the vibration.

Sam straightened. Eagerness filtered through him at the thought that the conversation might actually be getting somewhere, but Sam tried not to let it show. If Sam made a wrong move now, Dean would stop talking.

"He's an angel, Sammy!" Dean continued when Sam made no move to fill the silence growing between them. "And he's not like those other dickwad angels. He- he's everything good, Sam. I could sense from the first time I saw him in that barn, that he was just, just above all the stinking filth of the world. I could tell that he was something _more,_ and, goddammit, he doesn't get to throw that all away!"

Sam shook his head. "That's not fair. You can't judge Cas on another standard just because he's an angel. He makes mistakes, just like the rest of us, and he shouldn't have to be afraid of angering you every time he does.”

Dean met Sam's gaze for the first time since the conversation started. Sam noticed that the fury in his brother's eyes was no longer unadulterated; there was something resembling guilt there, too. 

"What are you saying?" Dean asked guardedly. 

"I'm saying that it's not Cas' responsibility to maintain all the crazy expectations you've made for him."

"Great," Dean said with a forced grin. "I'll keep that in mind. Am I allowed to drink now? Or do I need to ask you nicely to undo the child safety latch on the fridge?"

Sam ignored the sarcasm, knowing Dean could only take so much heart-to-heart talk. "You're going to have to talk with Cas about this, you know."

"I should probably wait until seeing his face doesn't make me want to deck him."

"That would make sense." Sam stood up as Dean gathered the ingredients for the Pledge of Horace spell. "Good luck with the spell, jerk."

"Right back at you, bitch," Dean said as Sam started toward the hallway where Cas had gone through. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure how to end this chapter. Hope I did ok.


	3. In Orbit

Sam stood outside the door to room number 15. It was silent, which Sam figured must be a good thing-- at least the angel wasn't trashing his room in a rampage. 

"Cas?" Sam asked as he knocked. "It's me, Sam. I wanted to make sure you're doing okay."

Sam paused, but there was no response. 

"I need you to know that I'm not mad. Dean isn't either. He's just worried about you, and he can't find a good way to express it. We're still here for you, Cas."

The seconds ticked by, but no sound came from inside the room. Sam sighed, leaning his head against the door. "I get it if you want to be alone right now, but it's not fair to give me the cold shoulder. Please, just... open the door and talk to me, or tell me to go. At least let me see you."

Sam pressed his ear against the door when it failed to open. He didn't know what he had been expecting to hear. Maybe footsteps pacing, the heavy fabric of a trenchcoat swishing, or breaths labored with emotion. There was nothing on the other side of the door, however. Not even a draft, given that they were underground. 

"Cas?" The Winchester reached for the doorknob, apprehension pooling heavily in his gut. A million horrible things could be waiting in the silence behind the wooden door.

The door swung open, and Sam faltered after entering the room. He had been fully expecting to be met with a glare from an indignant angel, or worse, but the room housed nothing living. There was a bed on the far wall, with pillows stiffly propped up and the blanket free from wrinkles. The floors were clean, and nothing was hanging from the walls. There was a desk with a chair pushed in beneath it, neatly out of the way. 

Sam looked around the barren room, bewildered. Where the Hell was Cas? 

He drifted absentmindedly closer to the bed and desk, as though getting a closer look would reveal that Castiel had been in the room the whole time, and Sam had simply missed him. But that wasn't the case; the room was truly empty. 

He was just turning to leave when something about the desk caught Sam's attention. Sam stared at it for a moment before realizing what it was: the desk was thick with dust, like it had been a long time since it had been used. The dirty surface contrasted sharply with the clean floors and tidy bed. Castiel typically paid attention to details-- even the clothes he wore were meticulously kept. Why would Cas leave his desk so dusty, then?

_'Is this really the time to worry about a dusty desk?'_ Sam mentally chided himself. He gave the room one last cursory sweep before leaving. Outside, Sam leaned against the hallway wall, gazing uneasily at dorm number 15. If not to his room, where had Castiel gone? The Bunker was large, but Cas tended to congregate in only a few places. The map room, the library, the kitchen, and the...

Sam's eyes widened as he remembered the one other place that Castiel was likely to be. He turned, moving down the hall at a pace closer to a jog than a walk in his anticipation. 

After many twists and turns, Sam was standing outside of another door, this one lacking a number, adorned with only the Aquarian star. Still, Sam didn't need a label to know where it led. He and Cas had started meeting here for book club about a month ago. Neither of them had told Dean that this room existed yet. Cas wasn't in his bedroom, so perhaps he had come here to avoid Dean. Sam went inside without delay.

In the middle of the room was a small circular table, surrounded by high stool chairs. Castiel was sitting on one with his back to the hunter. Sam looked Cas up and down, trying to shake the trepidation that had followed him from Cas' empty room. He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding when nothing out of the ordinary made itself known in the angel's appearance. 

As Sam moved to sit next to Cas, he realized the angel had a book in his hand. The book was open, hiding the cover, but Sam knew what it was: The Epic of Gilgamesh. It was the book he and Cas were currently reading for book club. 

Cas' gaze flicked up at Sam as he sat before settling back onto the pages and ink. "I'm busy, Sam. I'm trying to read."

"Really? Because your eyes aren't moving from line to line, you're just staring intensely at one spot on the paper."

Castiel let out an exasperated noise as he roughly closed the book. "What do you want."

"To make sure you're doing okay, first of all."

"I'm fine."

Sam frowned doubtfully, but elected not to comment for now. "And I wanted to apologize for what happened in the library. Dean was out of line when he accused you of putting us in danger for keeping quiet about your Grace."

"He wasn't wrong, though," Cas said bitterly. "I'm supposed to protect the two of you, but I can't so much as provide you with a feather for a spell. If you ever did find yourselves in a situation where your survival depended upon having angel Grace, I would fail you then as well."

"You're not failing anybody. You being by our side is all the protection we need, and no amount of broken Grace or feathers will change that. Me and Dean, we don't need Castiel the angel on our team; we just need Cas, our brother."

Cas shrugged silently. There was a dark look in his eyes that told Sam he wasn't getting through to the angel. "Cas? How are you feeling?"

"I said I was fine."

"No, I asked how you were feeling. What's going on inside your head?"

"I... don't know."

Sam shifted his stool closer to the angel. "Well, maybe if you say what you're feeling out loud, it will start to make more sense to you."

Cas shook his head. "I don't think--"

"Do you remember when you first came to me with _The Poisonwood Bible_?"

Castiel blinked at the interruption. "Yes, I do. Why?"

"You came to me for help, and I told you that you weren't alone. I meant what I said, then and now. I'll be here to listen to you and to help you, but you have to let me. You have to let me in."

"No chick-flick moments..." Cas muttered with uncertainty. 

"You must have me mixed up with that other Winchester," Sam smiled. "I love a good chick-flick."

Cas squinted as though searching for some hidden meaning or joke behind the hunter's words. "I don't know if this is where I'm supposed to be," he said eventually. 

"You mean in the Bunker?"

"I mean all of it," Castiel said slowly. "Angels were not created to possess free will. After stopping the Apocalypse, every decision I made only ended in tragedy. I can't help but wonder if I'm incompatible with free will. I've spent so long terrified of the day that my deficit would compromise the ideals you have sacrificed so much for, when I would put you in danger, and Dean made me realize that I can't deny it anymore. That day has come and gone. Surely I cannot remain here, allowing my belligerence to continue on."

"Cas. We're hunters; danger is in the job description. Having a badass angel who cares about us makes me and Dean _more_ safe, not less. And all that stuff about being 'incompatible' with free will? That's not true. You've grown so much because of the choices you've made. Even if they had some bad consequences, they led to this moment. They led to us being family. That has to mean something."

"If only things weren't so complicated." Castiel picked up The Epic of Gilgamesh, distractedly flipping through the pages. "I would like to believe you. But there's so much doubt within me, Sam." The angel sighed. He closed the book and pushed it away, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head to the ceiling. He looked so... defeated.

Sam abruptly stood. Cas watched curiously as Sam marched over to the wall, plucked a framed picture off, and placed it on the table. The angel's eyes softened as he took in the picture.

  
  


_"I made it for you," Sam said, holding out a piece of paper._

_Castiel narrowed his eyes in confusion before looking at the paper. There was an animal drawn onto it. Its legs were long and striped, like a zebra, and its face was bent down to the ground as it fed. The animal itself was monochrome, but the ground at its feet had been painted in green watercolor._

_"It's an okapi," Cas said faintly._

_Sam frowned, the excitement in his eyes dimming. His hand lowered. Castiel’s voice sounded almost toneless-- had Sam done something wrong? He cleared his throat, suddenly self-conscious. "Yeah. Uh. In that book,_ Poisonwood, _the okapi seemed pretty significant. Especially to the mother. And I don't know what it is, but she makes me think of you, somehow, and I figured maybe-- I guess I thought you might like it. The drawing. You don't have to take it if you don't want to, though."_

_Castiel's gaze met Sam's sharply. "Why wouldn't I want it?"_

_Sam paused. "I mean, I'm not much of an artist..."_

_"May I?" Cas gestured at the drawing in Sam's lowered hand._

_Sam relinquished the paper, and Castiel held it in gentle hands. "This was very thoughtful of you, Sam. No one has ever made me such a gift." Cas looked up at the hunter with a small smile and no small amount of gratuity, even awe, in his eyes. "Thank you."_

_Sam smiled back._

  
  


"Did you know it took me a week to make this?" Sam asked, pushing the framed okapi closer to the angel. "I kept messing up and starting over, again and again. It needed to be perfect. I even spent a day researching watercolor techniques so I could get the grass right. A lot of thought and effort went into making this."

Castiel remained silent, unsure where Sam was going with this. 

"Why would I do that?" Sam continued. "Why would I read a 500-some page book, go out to buy sharpies and paper and watercolors, and struggle to draw an okapi for you if I had _any_ doubt about where you belong? Why would I ask to start a book club with you if I didn't see any value in your insights? Geez, Cas, how many times have I entrusted you with my life in battle? The only person who doesn't trust your judgment here is you."

Castiel hesitated, looking on the brink of saying something. Sam sat back down beside the angel. Cas glanced up, saw the openness and understanding in Sam's gaze, and made a decision. 

"I thought I would stop falling eventually," Cas hung his head, unable to look Sam in the eyes anymore. "But it just doesn't end. Falling from Heaven and slowly losing my powers was horrible, but it was bearable because I was expecting it. Yet I'm not just Falling from Heaven, I'm falling from grace and righteousness. I make mistakes, do the wrong things. I'm _messy_ now and it is _terrifying._ I thought I would eventually hit the ground, but I keep missing it."

Sam opened his mouth to refute, but Cas interrupted him with a sniffle. Castiel angled his face up to the sky. The angel's eyes were bright with tears, and he continued in a strained voice before Sam could speak. 

"It's like I'm the moon. You and Dean would be the Earth-- constantly drawing me nearer to you, away from the heavens beyond. But it's not enough. I keep missing you, again and again and again, always _right there,_ but the physics are never right. I fall too far too fast, so I'm just stranded, alone, in orbit."

Sam sat for a few moments as he tried to formulate a response. 

"I'm so sorry that you feel that way," he said finally. "But you're wrong. The thing is, we've all fallen. I started the Apocalypse, Dean was a _demon_ for a while, and that's not even the half of it. We made mistakes from time to time, fallen from what we believe in. You were right there with us, helping to fight the devil, searching for a way to remove the Mark. Being part of a family doesn't mean that things are perfect, it means catching each other when we fall. And that includes you. You've been a part of this family for a long time, for better or worse, and I wouldn't trade that for the world."

Castiel let out a shuddering breath. There was this look in his eyes, like something was standing in the way of the words he desperately wanted to believe. Sam immediately scooted his stool closer and wrapped his arms around the angel's shoulders. Castiel tensed. Sam almost pulled away, worried he had overstepped, but then the angel relaxed and put his arms around Sam somewhat awkwardly. When Cas realized that the hug wasn't of the three-second-long, no-chick-flick-moments variety, he buried his head into Sam's neck. And when Cas' chest started heaving with quiet sobs, Sam held onto his brother even tighter. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't quite manage to address everything I wanted to in this chapter, so it looks like this installment will be four chapters long instead of three. I didn't want to risk ruining the flow of the chapter, and the hug seemed like a good place to leave off. A big thanks to everyone who's stuck around so far. I hope I've done justice to the characters we all know and love.


	4. Make This Place Your Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Settle down, it'll all be clear.  
> Don't pay no mind to the demons  
> they fill you with fear.  
> The troubles, they might drag you down.  
> If you get lost, you can always be found.  
> Just know you're not alone,  
> cuz I'm gonna make this place your home."  
> \- Home, by Phillip Phillips

_Sam smiled into his cup of coffee. The pleasant taste and the jolt of caffeine more than made up for the burning sensation of the liquid and steam. He and Dean had just returned from a hunt in Arkansas, and Sam's back was still aching from digging up a grave, so he was grateful for the opportunity to kick back and relax._

_Sam pushed himself off of the kitchen counter he had been leaning against before walking toward the garage, coffee still in hand. As he drew nearer, the hunter heard the unmistakable sound of classic rock blaring. Sam rolled his eyes. Dean's habit of listening to loud music wasn't going to do his hearing any good._

_Inside the garage, Dean had the Impala's hood up and was pointing out various parts of the engine while Cas watched with an uncomprehending mien._

_"For the last time, the radiator_ isn't radioactive **_._ ** _It's an Impala, not a DeLorean!"_

_"Why does the breed of the car matter?"_

_"The model!" Dean gawked. "It's a model, not a breed!"_

_"You two having fun?" Sam asked from the doorway, trying not to smirk._

_Dean threw an oily rag to the ground in frustration. "It's like trying to teach basketball to a hobbit! It's hopeless!"_

_Castiel quirked a confused brow at the analogy, but apparently decided not to question it._

_"Give the guy a break. He didn't grow up obsessed with cars like you."_

_"Technological knowledge is admittedly outside of my skill set," Castiel agreed._

_"What a sad life you must live." Dean shook his head in disapproval. Cas scowled, but there was fondness in his eyes._

_There was a lull in the banter as Dean turned back to the engine block. Sam moved closer so he could talk without having to raise his voice over Bon Jovi's "It's My Life."_

_"Hey, Cas. I noticed that the library looks the same as when me and Dean left. I thought you wouldn't come on the hunt because you wanted to organize it? Did something happen?"_

_"The library," Cas said slowly, as if he didn't know what Sam was talking about. Then recognition flashed across his face. "Right, the library. Something did indeed come up, and I could use your assistance with it."_

_Dean chuckled. "Seriously? What, is the Dewey decimal system too complicated for you?"_

_"Dean," Castiel said in a serious tone._

_The Winchester looked up, mouth partly open with some joke or witty retort, when Castiel pressed his oil-slicked hand against Dean's face._

_Dean jumped back, spluttering in surprise and dragging the sleeve of his flannel over the black handprint across his mouth._

_A laugh escaped Sam's throat, and he looked at Castiel with wide, impressed eyes._

_Cas hurriedly walked to the door before Dean could compose himself and retaliate, gesturing for Sam to follow._

_"CAS!" Dean screamed after them, but they were already partway down the hall. Sam laughed again, remembering the disgust in Dean's eyes as he had vigorously wiped at the oil starting to dribble down his chin._

_Dean would be too busy with his Baby to give chase after the angel, but Sam knew enough about his brother to know... "Dean is definitely going to get back at you, you know. I'd be sleeping with one eye open if I were you."_

_Castiel stopped, turning to look at Sam with a small smirk. "I'd like to see him try. Also, I don't require sleep."_

_"You've never been in a prank war with Dean," Sam said as he shook his head. "You have no idea what you've started."_

_Cas' brow furrowed as he considered that. "Thank you for warning me, Sam. Although I find it difficult to believe a 'prank war' with Dean could be as bad as you suggest." Castiel straightened his posture and the smirk left his face as he changed subjects. "If you'll allow me to clean myself of oil, then I would be glad to have your assistance with the library."_

_Sam nodded. "I'll wait for you there."_

_"Actually, it would be easier if you came with me."_

_"I'm sorry?"_

_"You can wait outside the bathroom," Castiel clarified. "But it would be easier if you did not retreat to the library."_

_Sam narrowed his eyes at the angel. Cas was_ definitely _hiding something, and Sam was getting more and more certain that it didn't have anything to do with the library at all. "Okay..." Sam said tentatively._

_Sam complied with Castiel's request, and as he waited outside the bathroom he was thinking of the untouched library and the way Cas had acted when Sam first mentioned the library. Castiel's reason for staying home during the hunt had obviously been a front, but for what? Should Sam be concerned? And why was Cas coming to him instead of Dean? Cas was way closer to the elder Winchester, so if the angel had some kind of bombshell secret, surely it should have been Dean that the angel relied on first._

_Castiel finally exited the bathroom, his clothes and his hands free from oil and from stains. He had probably used a little bit of angel mojo, then. The angel wordlessly gestured for Sam to follow him, and Sam noticed that they were putting the library further and further behind them. The Winchester fought the urge to ask Cas what they were doing; he had a feeling he wouldn't get any straight answers, anyway._

_When Castiel came to a stop, it was in front of what looked like a random door in the bunker. There wasn't a number on it, just the Aquarian star, which meant it was likely one of the numerous storage rooms in the Bunker._

_Sam cast his companion a doubtful look. "Cas, what's going on?"_

_"Just go inside."_

_Sam frowned at the door. "You want me to go inside a storage closet?"_

_"Sam."_

_The hunter gave the door one last dubious look, but he opened the door and entered anyway. Once inside, Sam froze._

_He had been expecting to enter a small room filled to the brim with cobwebs, dust, and storage boxes. Instead, Sam found himself in a clean and spacious room. Just in front of him was a small round table with three high stool chairs. There were a few potted plants in the room, out of the way along the walls; they filled the room with an earthy smell. There were new, store-bought candles littered around, but they were unlit. The left-hand wall housed large bookshelves, which were almost entirely empty, bar a handful of books placed neatly on one shelf. Looking at the spines, he realized that they were all the books he and Cas had read together in the past month and a half. Sam raised an eyebrow as he noticed a pair of hot pink bean bag chairs to the right of the room._

_Sam turned back to Cas, who was standing stiffly in the doorway. "What am I looking at?"_

_"When we meet for our book club, it's always in your room. I figured it might be more convenient, or at least less imposing, if we had our own space specifically for our meetings."_

_"This is what you were up to while Dean and I were gone?"_

_Castiel nodded. He met Sam's eyes unselfconsciously as he asked: "Do you like it?"_

_Sam grinned. "Yeah. I can't believe you did all this. I gotta ask, though-- what's with the bean bag chairs?"_

_"The lady at the store said they would be comfortable. She also encouraged me to purchase 'fairy lights,' but fairies have the habit of being downright annoying. I didn't think the troublesome creatures would have any place in a book club."_

_"I don't think you know what fairy lights are." Sam also didn't think he would be able to sit in the bean bag chairs comfortably. His frame would be too large to fit, and he wasn't certain he would be able to easily stand up again if he went down that low-- the hunter wasn't as young as he used to be. Sam was too polite to mention this out loud, though._

_Sam put his forgotten (and now cold) coffee onto the table and looked around the room more. He noticed that the room wasn't as big as he had thought it was upon first entering, it was just... empty. Not in a physical sense-- there was furniture in the room, after all, but there wasn't much of an atmosphere. Not that Sam blamed the angel; interior decorating probably wasn't a very marketable skill in Heaven, and Sam wasn't exactly an expert in the subject._

_Then the hunter noticed something hanging on the wall. He gasped softly, and then he grinned. "You kept it?"_

_Castiel canted his head. "Of course I did."_

_It was the drawing of the okapi. It was framed now, and Sam moved closer, letting his fingers drift over the cool glass. "I guess a part of me thought you'd just throw it away."_

_"Never," Castiel said. He moved to stand beside Sam and let his thoughtful gaze flicker between the hunter and the drawing. "Seeing your okapi makes me feel--" the angel paused, choosing his words carefully. Finally, he continued: "At home. I'm glad to have it."_

_Sam chuckled, and the two stood, looking at the picture of the okapi._

* * *

When Sam and Cas finally pulled away from each other, they talked. Not about anything important. They discussed the book they were reading for their club, how the ghost hunt in Arkansas went, new decor ideas for the club room. It wasn't until both their eyes had dried and the redness had faded from Cas' eyes that Sam led the conversation in a more severe direction. 

"We should go see how Dean's doing with that spell," Sam said.

"You didn't perform the spell with him before coming here?" 

"The spell didn't need two people, and there were more important things to do." Sam gave Cas a pointed look.

Castiel scowled and stood up. "Perhaps, but it was a new spell. Something could have gone wrong. Especially since..." 

His voice trailed off, but the words Cas didn't say still weighed in the air. ' _Especially since the feather I gave you was so damaged.'_ The angel turned quickly, fast enough that his trench coat billowed out behind him as he left the room. 

"Cas, wait up."

Castiel did not wait, but Sam had longer legs, so he caught up easily. A thought struck Sam as they walked, and he took his phone out of his back pocket. Sure enough, Sam had new texts from his brother.

_Dean: The ward is up and running again. Tell Cas that his feather worked._

_Dean: Latin sucks, you should have to buy me some pie for leaving me to do it on my own_

_Dean: Bitch._

"Dean is fine, Cas. He texted me. See?" Sam grabbed the angel's shoulder so he would stop, then held out the phone so Cas could look. 

The worry on Cas' face lessened as he read the messages, and he sighed in relief. "Thank God."

Sam nodded. "Disaster averted. It's a nice change of pace, huh? Finally being able to live without every little thing going wrong."

"I suppose," Castiel said. He rolled his shoulders, looking awkward. "I would... still like to check on him in person, however."

"Alone?"

Cas thought about it for a few seconds. "I don't know. I don't want to make him angry again, assuming he stopped being mad at me in the first place."

"You'll have to talk to him eventually." Sam pointed out.

"I know." Cas huffed.

"And it's better sooner than later."

"Better late than never," Cas challenged irritably. 

Sam raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Hey, you do what you think is best."

"I think... I think I will do it alone. But I can't guarantee that I won't try to smite him."

"It wouldn't be the first time he angered a celestial being."

Castiel shook his head fondly. "And something tells me it won't be the last time."

As Cas took a few steps away, the memories of the dusty desk in the angel's room resurfaced. 

"Hey, Cas, one last thing."

"Yes, Sam?"

"I tried finding you in your room earlier, but you weren't there. And I noticed there was--"

"What are you talking about?" Cas interrupted. 

Sam blinked. "What are _you_ talking about?"

"I don't have a bedroom," Castiel said slowly, like he was explaining something simple to a small child. "I don't even sleep, which is the main reason for their existence."

"Of course you have a room! Number 15? Remember?"

"I stayed in there a few times when I was weak," Cas admitted. "Because it's a guest room. It's not mine."

"But we gave it to you. It's _your_ room!"

Castiel frowned. "Since when?"

"Since..." Now it was Sam's turn to frown. Had he or Dean ever explicitly told Cas that the room was his? Or had they just assumed that Cas had understood what it meant when they let Castiel stay in room number 15?

Sam thought back to when he had searched the room for Cas. The bed had been so tidy. No, Cas wouldn’t have laid down to sleep in his bed, but surely he would have sat on it, or done _something_ to crumple the blankets and pillows. And Sam had noticed that the walls were bare, despite the numerous drawings and doodles Sam had made for the angel as they had read more and more books. Castiel had put every single one of them in the book club room, rather than in room 15. Sam had seen that the desk was dusty, but if he went back in, if he paid more attention to the state of the room, would he notice dust coating the whole room? The hunter ran his hand down the face as he realized the full weight of the miscommunication. No wonder the angel was having such a hard time feeling like he fit in-- he literally didn't have his own space in their home. How come he and Dean had never noticed this before? 

"We need to fix this..." Sam muttered.

"It's not a big deal. As I said, I don't even sleep."

"It is a big deal. Cas, you have no idea..." The hunter sighed, running his hand down his face, then through his hair as he tried to process just how awful this was. 

"Are you alright?" 

Sam forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's fine, just... we can talk about it later." 

Cas hesitated. He had this perturbed look on his face, like he knew there was something significant happening just under the surface but he couldn't tell what it was. "Alright. Then I'll be on my way."

Sam watched Castiel walk away. His expression was somber, but also thoughtful and determined. As much progress as they had made today, Sam recognized that there was still a lot more he and Dean would need to do to make sure the third member of their family knew he was loved. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably spent too much time building up the whole Pledge of Horace thing, considering it was just a plot device to get the boys talking about Cas' wings, but when I started writing this I wanted to open the doors in case I decided to give this book club verse an overarching plot. I don't think I want to do that anymore though-- I'd rather just have a series of book club related one shots.
> 
> As a result, this installment is kinda all over the place, so thank you for sticking it through to the end. 
> 
> I've got an idea for at least one more installment. If I can manage to put my vague ideas into words, then it'll be a one-shot that delves into my demisexual!Sam and asexual!Cas headcanons, but we'll see how that works out. 
> 
> Also... endings are hard to write. You'd think being in advanced English classes would mean I'd be better at this, but apparently not.


End file.
